If You Survive the Storm
by tragicladypirate
Summary: AU. Snape is exiled from the Order of the Phoenix following Dumbledore's murder by Death Eaters. Voldemort has an insidious plan to reinstate him, but it will involve gaining the trust of Sirius Black. A tale of intrigue, revenge & betrayal. Future SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. All glory to J.K. Rowling and her ideas. I make no profit off of this other than the enjoyment of feedback and the enjoyment of others!

**Author's Note**: Hello anyone and everyone who is reading this! I am attempting to come out of my fanfiction slump and am trying this idea on for size. Feel free to let me know what you think and if it is worth pursuing. Much love to she-who-must-not-be-named666 as always :) for being my beta and better half.

_If You Survive the Storm/ tragicladypirate_

Severus Snape awoke slowly as the first clap of thunder sounded. Savoring the fleeting feeling of languid comfort, his eyes fluttered shut once more before he resigned himself to consciousness. The man rose and began to dress gradually, resolute hands smoothing the fabric of his cloak and securing each button. As he prepared himself, Severus listened to the sound of the rain hitting the cobblestones, feeling only the slightest bit of trepidation. He knew this to be no natural storm.

The entire sky appeared engulfed in the dark black vapor of the storm and too-bright lighting cut harshly through the bleak atmosphere. Thunder rumbled vigorously. Even through the tempered glass window Snape could sense the latent static electric charge in the air. With a casualness that stems from years of meticulous cultivation, he calmly poured himself a cognac, clenching the tulip glass with ease.

He retired to the veranda with his glass, sipping it slowly. While most electrical storms inspire warm, humid conditions, this abomination forced Snape to pull his robe about him to brace against the biting cold. He watched with unblinking eyes as a streak of lightning pummeled into his favorite silver birch tree once, twice, then three times. Pressing his fingers to his temple, Snape inwardly steeled his resolve, dreading what he knew anticipated him. Having no choice in the matter, he savored the last of his drink and retreated back inside.

He did not flinch when as his back was turned a voice rose from the darkness of his quarters to greet him. "Hello Severus," it intoned, the last syllable tapping away into a hiss. Without hesitation, Snape turned and kneeled before the figure in black. "My Lord. I awaited your call," he recited.

Pale, elongated fingers were the only visible indication of his visitor, unnaturally bright as they trailed against the dark polished wood of the balustrade. Descending the staircase with formidable poise, the Dark Lord approached his servant.

"Yes," Lord Voldemort said. "Rise…It is quite impossible not to heed my call. I have increased the wind power since last we met. Impressive, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing outside.

Having no doubt of either the Dark Lord's abilities nor his natural propensity towards demonstrating his power, Snape was unsurprised that Lord Voldemort had taken to this new style of transportation. For a man whose regime all but propounded his divinity, it was no great revelation that he would choose to portray himself this way. Harnessing control over the elements was an art all but lost to wizardkind and manipulating them as such required immense stores of Dark magic.

"Most impressive My Lord," Snape conceded, rising from his position on the floor and resuming a deferential stance. "Zeus and Thor themselves could affect no better." A wry smirk distorted Voldemort's pallid face. Much accustomed to such ambiguous comments from Snape, the black hooded wizard changed the subject. "Dear dependable Severus. It seems I am in need of your services once again."

"As much as I know you would relish a social call…" he said pointedly, allowing Snape to absorb his own brand of sarcasm, "This matter is of the greatest importance. It is a job that I believe you will find…" he paused, as if searching for the correct word, "…most _interesting_." Snape tightened his hold on his impassive expression. Whatever task his master classified as 'interesting' certainly would not bode well for his well-being…or his sanity.

"Your involvement will be instrumental in the execution of my plans. You are the only servant I trust is capable of performing this function." Noting Severus's subtle apprehension, Lord Voldemort continued enjoying the other man's concealed discomfort. "I wish you to make your way back into the inner sanctum of the Order."

Snape immediately opened his mouth to retort and was stilled as Voldemort gestured that he wished to continue. "I know that you have been somewhat ostracized since the death of Dumbledore. The old fool should have known it was his influence alone that led the others to trust you," Voldemort continued, eyes bright, "But because they do not seek you outright and accuse you of retaining your allegiance to me, I know it is possible."

"Somewhat ostracized?" Snape echoed in obvious disbelief. "You are more than well aware that after his death The Order headquarters was relocated and the new whereabouts were blatantly not conveyed to me. Forgive me My Lord…but there are many that have been suspicious of my intentions from the beginning," Snape responded coldly, "You expect me to be welcomed back into their fold so easily?" he asked, slight skepticism slipping into his tones.

"Ahhh but Severus," Lord Voldemort chided, stepping closer Snape, "anything is possible with the right tools. All things are obtainable…you simply need the key."

"The key?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow. "Sirius Black," Voldemort hissed.

Hearing the name Snape blanched, the vein in his temple standing out noticeably. "What about Black?" he bristled. Eyeing his companion the Dark Lord laughed outright. The hatred radiating off of the Potions Master was almost palpable. Nothing pleased him more than to exploit a well-guarded weakness.

"He is the key," Voldemort continued. "_Harry Potter_," he spat, "and his asinine Order lackeys continue to gallivant around on their Horcrux fool's errand, trying to destroy me___. They are consumed by it. _You can use this opportunity to worm your way closer to Black and through him back into the circle of trust."

"That's despicable!" Snape rumbled, demure attitude all but forgotten. "What makes you think I would be willing to do this?" Voldemort did not dignify that with a response. "I'd rather die than make nice with that mangy—"

Unfortunately, his next words were silenced as Voldemort used _Imperio_ to bring a distracted Snape to his knees. The Dark Lord was not a man possessing bodily dominance, nor was he an imposing physical specimen. He was however extremely agile and exceptionally cruel.

Grabbing him by the jaw, Voldemort delivered a sharp blow to the man's face. The resulting crack resounded loudly throughout the room as it reverberated off the walls. Snape had only seconds to recognize the metallic taste filling his mouth before he felt the slender hand surround his throat. Tilting Snape's head so that his coal black eyes met with his own livid scarlet ones the Dark Lord spoke. "You forget with whom you speak. I make it my personal business to convey that there are fates much worse than death."

"Such as?" Snape croaked, contemplating whether spitting blood on the Dark Lord's cloak was a punishable offense. "Do not tempt me," Voldemort taunted, swirling his wand nonchalantly between two fingers of his unoccupied hand. To emphasize his point the acoustic roar of the thunder flared along with his red eyes, as the unnaturally long digits around Snape's windpipe tightened respectably.

Snape gritted his teeth and promptly lowered his forehead to the hem of Voldemort's robe. His wordless assent radiated anger, but also a resigned subservience. Releasing his hold, Voldemort smiled…as much as a lipless creature can smile. "I believe I have my answer then."

"Allow me to elaborate," Lord Voldemort began. "Since the headquarters have been relocated my informants tell me Sirius Black is currently residing at Hogwarts. Although Hogwarts is not in session the wards will allow _you_ through, Severus. Once there, you are to find Black. Kept away from the limelight, reduced to hiding as a fugitive….You can exploit his loneliness and his Gryffindor-like need to feel involved and gain his confidence."

"Master I do not—"

"Gain knowledge through him and use it against them," the Dark Lord continued harshly, his unearthly eyes gleaming, "Discover the new location of the Order and of Harry Potter and you will be rewarded…And once I have killed the boy and Black is no longer needed, you too may know the pleasure of destroying your enemy. Do you understand?"

As Snape pictured Sirius Black in his mind a hateful lump began to form in his throat. Gradually accepting the hand offered to him, Snape rose to his feet. Returning his eyes to his master, Snape smiled in turn and as he smiled, there was a film of blood and inherent madness in the grin. "Your will be done My Lord," he pledged, "your will be done."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Once again, I do not own Harry Potter in any way. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling entirely. I do not make any profit from this and never shall.

**Author's Note**: Here we go with Chapter 2! Thanks to the reviewers and everyone else who has taken an interest. It does my heart good to see that so many of you have put the Story Alert on :) Review and you would make my day! I don't believe in very long chapters, so more will follow in Chapter 3.

_If You Survive the Storm/ tragicladypirate_

Revenge had been the focal point of Snape's existence for almost as long as he could care to remember. From his impoverished childhood at Spinner's End, he had been presented with nothing if not the reality of the world, cold and barbed though it was. Within his first decade of existence he had come to fully grasp what others struggled with their entire lives. Namely, that whether you lived or died was entirely own responsibility. To even presume or be so foolish as to desire otherwise would be a mistake. A mistake for which his mother had paid dearly. The belief that another individual would be predisposed, let alone capable, of looking out for your welfare was nothing short of self-delusion.

The domestic violence exhibited upon his mother at the hands of his useless drunken father had been but the first step in his education. The humiliation and indifference he met upon his arrival at Hogwarts had been yet another. The constant derision and gibes had added insult to injury, alienating an already bitter child and condemning him to a school experience almost entirely devoid of amicable relations. Estranged from most of his peers, Severus had found solace in his lessons, pursing his studies with an almost frantic fervor, further isolating his classmates. Although Severus would be loathe to admit it, these experiences had left him jaded.

Pushing thoughts of the past away, the Potions Master grunted slightly as he stepped over a fallen tree. Musing about his current predicament, Severus Snape continued to trudge through the forest undergrowth. Muttering under his breath, the man was obviously aggravated. To Severus, that the Dark Lord saw this mission as a test was more than apparent. His situation was precarious at best and simply waltzing into Hogwarts would serve him as well as painting a target on his chest. _'Black always was one to shoot hexes first, ask questions later'_ he growled inwardly. No…while Black was his main objective it would be suicide to presume that merely waving the proverbial white flag would be enough to protect him. Voldemort would expect him to realize this and resort to craftier means.

Reaching into his cloak, his fingers closed around his dragon-hide satchel. Equip with a Disillusionment charm and entirely non-flammable, this unassuming shoulder bag had served as his secret weapon on more than one occasion. From this he pulled out a small glass vial. A potion of his own concoction, the brew was a milky white as well as odorless. Clenching the vial in his fist, Snape continued his trek. Upon reaching the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, he stopped as the outline of the Hogwarts castle loomed in the distance.

Snape attempted to position himself advantageously, in plain view yet not immediately obvious. This had to be done properly. No good going through all this trouble and having it look contrived. Once again reaching into his satchel, he withdrew a small dagger. He then pushed back the sleeve of his cloak, exposing his left forearm. Without hesitation, he dug the blade into his flesh clenching his teeth against the pain. Lord Voldemort had seen to it that the Dark Mark was irremovable and that great anguish was inflicted upon any bearer who attempted to mar it.

This however meant nothing to Severus, as his intention was not to remove the mark. In fact, it was quite the contrary. Using the blade, he began to carve into his skin. He proceeded to make a large, vertical cut before diverging into a downward facing semicircle, taking care to cut as deeply as he felt sensible. Sheathing the small weapon, he transferred the potion to the hand of his uninjured arm before removing the cork stopper and downing the drink in one large gulp. _'Odorless but not tasteless'_ he thought with a grimace.

He quickly stowed both the dagger and bottle. Knowing that one of the main ingredients was Acromantula venom he did not have to wait long. The potency of the giant arachnid's toxin coursed through his veins and almost instantaneously the poison started to take effect. Surrendering himself to the pain, Severus doubled over, allowing himself to sink to the ground. As his vision blurred, he cast one last look at his arm. _'I do hope this is enough blood to draw him quickly'_ he thought dryly, _'I very well might be dead before that blasted lycanthrope even arrives.'_ Eyes rolling back in his head, Snape was unconscious even before the convulsions began.

…

Remus Lupin considered himself to be many things, but a fool was not one of them. Even in his human form, the scent of fresh blood had been enough to coerce him into deviating from his typical route as he patrolled the Hogwarts grounds. The scent was oh so alluring…and its presence more than a bit alarming. Upon locating the source of the smell, Remus was at a momentary loss. A comatose figure clad in black lay on a grassy knoll near the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Although this person was disheveled and obviously gravely wounded, Remus was not anxious to blindly charge into what could be a trap. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew his wand. Before he could send up the traditional red sparks to alert the others, he felt a jolt as he identified the face.

Against his better judgment, Remus lowered his wand. Calling for help now wouldn't do any good; better to know more about the situation before sounding the alarm. Still suspicious, Remus crouched before the fallen figure, trusting his heightened senses to warn him of any movement behind him. Drawing closer to Severus he could see the extensive damage that had not been noticeable from a distance.

That the man had suffered massive blood loss was clear and the hemorrhaging was still profuse. Severe bruises had begun to blossom on his face and Remus was quite sure that if the man were to survive, his hook-shaped nose would be even more disfigured, as it appeared broken in several places. Looking to his left, Remus noticed with mild disgust that Snape had vomited. _'Right, so not only has he been beaten to a bloody pulp, he's been poisoned to boot'_ the werewolf thought with annoyance. Remus's indignation soon died as his eyes fell on Snape's arm.

Were it not for the large amounts of blood stemming from the area Remus might have overlooked it. The blood was still wet albeit cold and through the red film the harsh black shape of the Dark Mark was readily visible. Yet it was not the sight of the mark that caused Remus to freeze with a sharp intake of breath. Seeing the symbol pared onto the skin, Remus suddenly felt winded. "My Gods…" he muttered, pausing to think for a few moments, "If that's the case…"

Reaching out an unsteady hand, Remus felt for the unconscious man's pulse. Relief trickled into his heart as he felt the weak beating. _'Faint but at least it's still there…for now'_ he thought absently. After seeing Severus's arm, Remus knew he had to get medical attention for Snape as soon as possible…and the Hospital Wing might not be a bad start. He contemplated casting _Wingardium Leviosa_ and reluctantly rejected the idea. Performing even simple magic on someone so heavily afflicted had the potential for doing more damage than good. Remus hadn't a clue as to what had poisoned Severus or how it would react to his magic. He would have to find some sort of antidote for whatever poison Snape had been subjected to before he could risk using magic. The last thing Snape needed right now was to be injured even further.

Weighing his options, Remus did his best to gather the man in his arms with as little rough movement as he was able. Casting one last glance at the Forbidden Forest, Remus began to carry Severus towards the castle.

…

As the man was sallow and lanky under the best of conditions, his weight was minimal allowing Remus to carry him with comparative ease as he walked as briskly as he dared. Upon arriving at the doors, Remus transported Snape through the Entrance Courtyard and into the Entrance Hall.

Glad the Founders had saw fit to place the Hospital Wing on the first floor, he decreased his pace slightly, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Placing the still unconscious Potions Master on an empty cot Remus braced himself. Shutting the door to the Infirmary and retreating back to the first room he went about seeing to an antidote. Pawing through the many shelves and muttering to himself, Remus was so engrossed in what he was doing that he hardly registered the sound of the shuffling feet and the sound of the door clicking shut. It wasn't until a rough hand clasped his shoulder and spun him around that two thoughts registered; that he was no longer alone in the room and that unfortunately he was about to be in very hot water.


End file.
